


Veneration

by LoversAntiquities



Series: Shameless [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Catholic Rosary, Face-Fucking, Improper Use of a Rosary, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities
Summary: “I want you to use this,” Castiel says one morning, pressing something cold into Dean’s unoccupied hand and closing his fingers around it, “on me.”Mug to his lips, Dean cocks a brow and rolls the object between his fingers: a length of chain with beads strung along it, a four-pointed crucifix dangling from the end—he almost drops his coffee. Said coffee, he suddenly desperately needs. “Castiel,” he chides, holding the rosary out and letting it unravel. “Kinky, aren’t you?”





	Veneration

“I want you to use this,” Castiel says one morning, pressing something cold into Dean’s unoccupied hand and closing his fingers around it, “on me.”

Mug to his lips, Dean cocks a brow and rolls the object between his fingers: a length of chain with beads strung along it, a four-pointed crucifix dangling from the end—he almost drops his coffee. Said coffee, he suddenly desperately needs. “Castiel,” he chides, holding the rosary out and letting it unravel. “Kinky, aren’t you?”

Castiel just raises his chin, half-lidded eyes fixed on the crucifix. “It’s specifically meant to bind Grace for as long as the angel wears it. You said you wanted more control,” and he takes Dean’s mug, now empty, setting it atop the kitchen countertop, “and this is one way of… subduing me, if you will.”

Subduing—so casual, like binding an angel is an everyday thing. Like Castiel bringing him cursed objects is just something they do for fun. Admittedly, this is for fun, but the point stands—this is blasphemous, and Dean can’t get enough.

Mug rinsed and placed in the sink, Dean stuffs the rosary in his robe pocket and follows Castiel, winding through the halls and into Castiel’s bedroom. Lit by dwindling candles, Dean watches him undress, shirt pulled off and cast onto the foot of the bed, sweatpants shucked off to reveal the half-hard cock Dean knows so well. By touch, taste… His mouth waters just thinking about it. Beneath his robe, his own twitches in his briefs, eager for anything Castiel wants.

And what Castiel wants, is to be _bound_. “Tie my wrists,” he instructs, turning his back to Dean. Hands crossed, he waits for Dean to touch him, and Dean takes the rosary—deep green, made with glass beads rather than the wooden ones Dean owns—wrapping it around Castiel’s wrists. Knotted and secured, he tugs on the beads, waiting for Castiel’s approval. “You’re very talented at this.”

“Perks of the job,” Dean winks. Castiel rewards him with a quick kiss, filthy and deep, before motioning for Dean to disrobe. “So what’re you thinking? Bed, floor, do I need to get—”

“I’d like to blow you,” Castiel says, blasé about the whole thing—and Dean’s face heats even hotter. “Standing, preferably. I’ve been imagining how it would feel, if you pulled my hair—”

“I can—I can do that,” Dean agrees, lightheaded. Thirty minutes—Dean has been awake thirty minutes, and Castiel is already sinking to his knees for him, waiting patiently. So, so patiently—and Dean can’t help but oblige him. Deftly, he unties his belt and lets his robe fall off his shoulders, pooling around his feet; before he can even reach for his underwear, Castiel begins to mouth a wet trail up his straining cock, eyes dark in the candlelight. “Fuck, Cas—”

“Say my name,” Castiel urges, a smile on his lips. With his teeth, he pulls down Dean’s briefs, freeing his pulsing cock. “You have me on my knees, worshiping you. You bound me with your own hands, and you can’t even say my name?”

“Sorry,” Dean flushes, inexplicably embarrassed. Not for slipping up, but from the way Castiel looks at him, absolutely lecherous. Still, he waits on his knees, and Dean’s brain finally catches up with what he’s supposed to be doing. With his thumbs, he tugs down his underwear and kicks them off, garnering a content hum from Castiel. “Thought I was supposed to be the one in control here.”

“Oh, you are,” Castiel murmurs. He noses at the base of Dean’s cock, eyes never once leaving his. “But right now, I’m the one doing all the work.”

“Bossy,” Dean chuckles. Intentionally, he bumps his cock against Castiel’s cheek, and faintly, he watches Castiel’s cheeks redden, pupils dilated just the slightest. “You can’t get out of that, can you?”

Castiel shifts his hands, eventually shaking his head. “You know the word.”

“Kinda gonna be hard with your mouth full,” Dean taunts, and—Castiel shudders, eyelids fluttering. _Interesting_. “That what you want? You want me to fuck your throat?”

Shakily, Castiel nods. Whatever the rosary is doing to Castiel’s Grace, it certainly is having an effect on his libido as well, based on how hard his cock twitches between his legs, precome leaking down the length of it and dripping onto the floor. “Yes,” Castiel says, so close to a beg, yet not quite. “Yes, I want you to.”

Dean’s stomach twists pleasantly in reply. Gently, he palms the top of Castiel’s head, his other hand running the wet head of his cock over the seam of Castiel’s lips. And all too eagerly, Castiel opens to him, relaxed and utterly at ease when Dean slides in to the root. Castiel’s eyes flutter closed, nose nestled in the coarse hairs there, just waiting, swallowing around Dean’s girth. Normally, Dean sucks Castiel off, sometimes on his knees in bedrooms, truck stop bathrooms, back alleys; more often than not, he gets Castiel off in bed, with his face buried in Castiel’s crotch and Castiel holding on for dear life.

Now, though, he gets to watch the way Castiel breathes, how his lips stretch around the shaft; his moan reverberates all the way to Dean’s balls, and Dean tugs Castiel’s hair, earning another more drawn-out noise. “Easy, tiger,” Dean laughs, easing Castiel back with a shaking hand. “Don’t want this over that fast, now, do we?”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but otherwise slackens, going limp in Dean’s hold. So reminiscent of his own submission, but this—this is hotter, knowing Castiel chose to give himself over like this, giving Dean absolute control over his body, Grace temporarily shoved to the side in favor of pleasure. Dean feels him fidget with the rosary when he thrusts into Castiel’s mouth, shallowly at first, easing him into it. Eventually, Castiel settles down, and behind his back, Dean watches him clutch the crucifix in both hands, thumbs pressed into the steel. “You like that,” Dean coos, tugging Castiel’s hair tighter when Castiel shivers. “On your knees, all that power in my hands. I could do whatever I wanted with you, couldn't I?”

Blue eyes open to him, his irises eclipsed black; Castiel hollows his cheeks, and Dean takes advantage of the tightness, both hands in Castiel’s hair when he thrusts, faster now, delighting in Castiel’s grunts. Given the chance, and Castiel would cradle his balls, pull off to suck them into his mouth. Which—isn’t a bad idea, but maybe for another day. “What would the other angels think, if they saw you?” he asks. Hypothetically, of course, but Castiel moans all the same. “Letting a human defile you like this. Letting me do it, because you wanted it. That right, Castiel?”

Abruptly, he pulls out, fisting his slick cock while Castiel sucks in air, saliva spilling down his chin. “Yes,” Castiel rasps, surging forward. Dean holds him back, smirking at Castiel’s frustration. “Dean—”

“Not yet,” Dean tsks. Again, he presses his cock to Castiel’s lips, smearing precome across the seam, onto Castiel’s tongue. If he wanted, he could keep Castiel like this, could torment him and come on his face, and just leave him aching and hard. And Castiel would let him, because he asked for this, and Dean controls whether or not he comes. “So good,” Dean shushes, leaning down to kiss Castiel’s swollen lips. Castiel falls into him, shoulders straining, desperate to break free. “No, no. You move, and you don’t get this.”

“Please,” Castiel pleads, hissing through his teeth when Dean tugs his hair by the root. His hips twitch, reddened cock spilling precome, thicker now. “ _Please_ , Dean.”

“You’re such a slut,” Dean praises and pushes in again, just before Castiel can ready himself. He doesn’t gag, but he does groan, eyes rolling back. “Look at you, desperate for it. You’re practically drooling.”

Shakily, Castiel nods; Dean presses a thumb to the corner of Castiel’s lips, catching the spit and precome that drips free. “Wet,” he says, winded, just as his cock throbs in Castiel’s mouth. His balls draw up, too sudden to be comfortable, and he rears back, catching his breath. This time, Castiel takes him in easier, tongue joining in when Dean thrusts, leisurely stokes turning brutal, more animalistic as heat rushes through his veins.

“Fuck,” Dean wheezes, nails digging in. Castiel meets him thrust for thrust, swallowing around his cock when Dean pushes in deep, increasing the pressure. He can’t bring himself to talk, not like this, his orgasm seeping in, sudden and rapturous. And only by a miracle does he remember to pull out, tilting Castiel up by his chin and coming across his face, his spend spilling across full lips, sharp cheeks, pooling in the dip of his chin. Dean just holds him there, continuing to stroke his cock until he’s dry—and he gathers it up in his hand, dropping to his knees to stroke Castiel’s cock with the mess.

Castiel’s kiss tastes like musk and his own release, tongue wild and devious against Dean’s own; his orgasm, unlike Dean’s, is loud, practically a whine when he comes, hips bucking into the circle of Dean’s fist, release dirtying everything it touches: namely, Dean’s hand, the floor, a stripe reaching his own cock. “Saved it up for me, did you?” Dean asks, increasing the pressure. Castiel shouts and falls forward, his body held up solely by Dean as Dean fists him, draining the last of his come free. “All mine, Castiel. Just mine.”

“Yours,” Castiel affirms, trembling. He presses a kiss to Dean’s collar, falling into Dean’s embrace.

With waning adrenaline, Dean helps Castiel sit, out of the way of the mess on the floor, and unties the rosary; experimentally, Castiel rotates his wrists, the skin reddened by the beads healing the minute Dean sets him free. “How was that?” Dean asks, sneaking a kiss beneath Castiel’s ear. “That what you wanted?”

“More than,” Castiel says, unashamed. “I didn’t think you’d tease me, though.”

Dean snorts, licks away a stray fleck of come on Castiel’s cheek. “What can I say? Kinda like seeing an angel on his knees for me.”

“I figured you would.” Again, Castiel kisses him, softer, more encouraging. “I made this for you, actually. It matches your eyes, and I know the ones you have are falling apart.”

Unbidden, Dean blushes and hides his face; Castiel turns him with a single finger, then slips the rosary around his neck, settling the crucifix against his sternum. “You deserve nice things,” he whispers, coaxing Dean into another kiss. Like Dean needs any encouragement. “And if you ever wanted to do this again—”

“Hell yes,” Dean says before he can catch himself. Castiel just laughs, mirthful, and kisses Dean’s cheek. “Am I always gonna get presents for great sex?”

“You deserve more than that,” Castiel assures. “You deserve the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I swear I'm not ignoring you!! I was working on my Tropefest for a while, and now that I've finished that, I'm onto DCBB, and then I have my DCRB to write, and it's a big hot mess. I promise I'm still here and I'm still trying to write smaller things! But for now, here's some shameless filth because I'm on a blasphemy jam. (If you have any fic prompts, send them my way on Twitter!)
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](http://tragidean.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/loversantiquity).


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